


Parasite

by bren_writes



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Alien Invasion, Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, More tags will be added as they become relevant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 04:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6105250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bren_writes/pseuds/bren_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is John Egbert, and you accidently unleashed a horde of parasitic aliens who wish to take over your home planet and use its occupants as hosts. Will you and your friends be able to survive the destruction that follows and take back the Earth? Or will you fail and suffer a fate worse than death?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Kids Aren't Alright

You sit crouched on your balcony, hands clutching the railing with so much force your knuckles have turned an eerie shade of white. Not that you can help it — you’ve never been more scared in your entire sixteen years of life. Your name is JOHN EGBERT, and you’ve been sitting on this balcony for approximately FIVE HOURS now, as every time you begin to relax you see another one of those CHERRY RED SPACE SHIPS stream across the sky — you assume they are space ships as they do not remind you of anything you’ve ever seen on Earth— and no matter how many times this has happened, you jump a little at the large _BOOM_ that follows each ship as it makes impact.

Your older sister, JANE, had been sitting out here with you earlier, gasping at each ship as it streaked past. However she left about four hours ago, and ever since you can’t smell anything other than the stench of Betty Crocker cakes in the oven. You’ve learned the hard way that Jane bakes when she’s stressed, so there will probably be at least half a dozen iced monstrosities waiting for you when you finally head downstairs. Not that you can blame her. A potential alien invasion is more than enough reason to be freaking out.

According to the television you can hear broadcasting the news from inside your house, these ships have been crash-landing all over the globe. The ships have sustained no damage from the crash — not even chipped paint— and so far not even the military or the world’s top scientists have been able to get one open. You can still see the smoke rising off of the cherry red speck in the distance. Despite the vast number you’ve seen pass over your house, this is the only ship has landed within your field of vision. It doesn’t appear to be doing anything.

“JOHN!” you hear your cousin Jade yell. “Come down here and eat something! Nothing’s going to happen if you look away from the sky for TWO WHOLE SECONDS.”

You sigh, knowing that she’s right. The ships have been landing for two days now, though in much less frequency than they have been today. There were only about a dozen reported sightings in the entire world yesterday, but there have been thousands spotted in just the last few hours. Either way, none of the ships have shown any signs of activity, and you doubt that a teenage boy watching from his balcony is going to change any of that.

You slowly stand to your feet, wincing at the pins and needles that prod and poke at the inside of your legs. Maybe you shouldn’t have sat in the same position for so long.

“JOHN--”

“I’m coming, i’m coming!” you yell, before Jade can chew you out. She's been doing that a lot lately, you've noticed. Much more than usual. “You better have fixed something besides those awful Betty Crocker cakes, though!”

You pick up your father’s PDA from the floor beside you. Your friends Rose and Dave’s Pesterchum handles have been idle all day, but that hasn’t stopped you from sending them a continuous stream of messages. You can’t help but worry about them, despite knowing that, besides Jade, they are the two most capable people you know of. Nothing bad could happen to them, right? You try to stay upbeat as you struggle down the stairs, your legs still not cooperating with you just yet.

A plate piled high with various green things cooked in various different ways is practically thrown into your arms the second you step foot in the kitchen. You knew Jade was a gardener, but this is just ridiculous. You start to make a face at the food but think better of it considering Jade is standing right in front of you, daring you with her eyes to say anything about her cooking. Her dark brown hair is tangled and frizzy, as always, and she’s wearing some of your clothes, which practically swallow her whole. The dark shadows under her eyes concern you, but you know that mentioning it would probably reward you with a punch in the arm.

Two days ago, one of the spaceships crashed into Jade’s house, destroying it completely. Thankfully, she and her brother and grandfather were out hunting at the time, so they were all completely unharmed by the incident. With all of their belongs destroyed except for their rifles, their dog, and the clothes on their backs, Jade’s grandfather started up his private airplane, and they headed for the mainland as quickly as possible. They’ve stayed at your house ever since, and Jade hasn’t slept a wink. This is odd for her, as Jade is someone who typically sleeps all the time.

Jade pats you on the arm, a fake smile plastered on her tired face. “Eat up.”

You mumble a quiet “thanks” to her as you take a seat at the kitchen table. Jade plops down in the seat across from you, where her own plate of veggies waits. The two of you sit in awkward silence, not actually eating, which strikes you as odd. Before this whole spaceship-destroying-her-house mess, a room with Jade Harley in it was never awkward or silent.

“All of this worrying isn’t helping anything, you know,” Jade mutters as she examines a piece of spinach on the end of her fork.

“I’m not worrying. I’m just… interested.”

“Interested? More like obsessed!” Jade drops her fork on the table. “John, someone who is ‘just interested’ doesn’t sit outside for half the day staring at the sky, too scared to move because if you do, something might happen! Someone who is ‘just interested’ would have come inside hours ago.”

“I don’t want to be lectured about this by you of all people.” Your voice rises, although you don’t mean for it to.

“What are you implying, John?”

“I know you haven’t been sleeping well, and when you do you wake up shaking.” Jade opens her mouth to speak, but you cut her off. “And don’t try to deny it. Have you looked in a mirror lately? I’ve never seen someone with shadows under their eyes that dark.”

“Well, excuse me if I’m a little upset that my entire house was destroyed! I’m lucky my whole family wasn’t killed!” she snaps, her voice increasing in pitch the more upset she gets. “ I’m allowed to worry about my family, you know.”

“Then why is it a crime for me to worry about mine?”

The two of you get locked in an intense stare down. At first you think you may be winning, but once you notice the wet sheen of tears in her eyes, you have to look away. Jade picks up her fork and starts eating again, chewing on the spinach deliberately slow. She’s done with the conversation.

“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” you say. Better fix all of your broken bridges while you still can. “I’ll stay down here with you guys for the rest of the day, alright?”

Jade doesn’t say anything, but she gives you a quick, tight nod, and you think you catch the faintest glimpse of a smile on her lips. You pick up your fork and start eating as well. You know, for a bunch of vegetables, it’s not that bad.

 

You make good of your promise to Jade and spend the next half hour in the kitchen with her, talking and exchanging childhood stories. For that short period of time, she actually seems like her old self again. Laughing. Happy. The chat ends only when Jade excuses herself to go to the restroom, and you take it as opportunity to check up on your other friends. You fetch your laptop of its perch on the coffee table and return back to kitchen table. . Since Rose isn’t answering, maybe you can check up on her via her older sister, Roxy. She’s somewhat of a social media star, and she posts videos on YouTube religiously. In fact, you can’t remember a day when she didn’t post a video. Why would today be the exception?

It’s not. One new video was posted to the account _tipsyGnostalgic_ about two hours ago, and, based on the thumbnail image, you can tell it’s going to be a doozy. You click on the video titled “le SIGN” and brace yourself for the worst.

The camera focuses on a disheveled girl that is sitting on the floor with her back against a poster-covered wall. Her white-blonde hair is in disarray and her eyes are tinged with red. Several wine bottles litter the floor around her, and you see red wine stains in the white carpet. Ah. She’s drunk.

“Heeeeyyyyy Tubeyube!” she laughs, slurring the words so incredibly you are suprised you can understand her. “Whoops! I mean YubeTube. Right? No? Ah, whatever. How are my lovely subscribers on this fine last day of human existence?”

She giggles as if she told a joke and takes a sip directly out of one of the wine bottles. “Now, you guys are probably going off right now in the comments, saying shit like _Roxy, this isn’t the end of the world you crazy cat lady, it’s just some kind of government conspiracy_ but I guess we’re just going to have to agree to disagree there, bub, because you know what? My little sis, you know, Rose? Ha ha , of course you do. It’s not like I talk about her all the time or anything.”

Roxy coughs into her hand, still grinning although her eyes seem sad. “Anyway I may have read her journal. Don’t judge me alright! I don’t wanna hear any of that in the comments either.” She points at the camera, or at least, she means to, but her aim is a little off. “Rose was actin’ all distant and anxious all day yesterday once all these ships started poppin’ up out of nowhere, so when she went to bed I read her last journal entry to check up on her, since God knows she won't talk to me about anything important.”

“Rose is convinced that the end of the world is happening, and it’s happening soon. Wrote something about a dream she had a few days ago ‘bout the collapse of society and all that shit. She’s a freaking genius, though. Like, seriously, she’s never wrong about this stuff. So I am one gajillion percent sure that the apocalypse is knocking on our doors right now, and it’ll be comin’ in soon. Anyone who disagrees can suck it, because I trust my little Rosie. Even if she doesn’t trust me.”

Roxy’s laughs have lost all of their mirth by this point. You start to wonder if something is wrong with her. Like, really wrong with her. “Who can blame her though? At the first word of the end of the world comin’ I get completely wasted! Five months of sobriety right down the drain. But honestly, it’s not like it matters. I’ll be dead tomorrow anyway.”

She slaps her hands over her mouth as if she said something she wasn’t supposed to. “Ha ha, whoops! I wasn’t gonna tell you guys that part ‘cause you’d get all worried, but I guess it’s too late now, huh?” She’s probably too drunk to realize she can edit that out later. Typically she’s a computer wiz, but you guess all of her technical skills went down the drain with her sobriety. “Okay, so, Rose didn’t dream just about the apocalypse. According to her journal, every night for the past week, someone specific has died in her dream. Never in the same way, but it's always the same person. Once this person was hit by a car, once she jumped off a bridge, once she was stabbed in the back, et cetera, et cetera. The dreams never give her specifics, but the overall concept always comes true. This person in the dream was me.”

This time when Roxy picks up the wine bottle, she takes more than a sip. A lot more. “As I said earlier, Rosie’s never wrong. Ever. So if her dreams are sayin’ that I’m going to die, then, well. This will probably be my last video, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to be sober for it.”

She puts the bottle down and sits up a little straighter, squaring her shoulders and tipping her head up in what you assume is one last attempt at professionalism. She flashes one last grin at the camera, and her bloodshot eyes seem to meet yours perfectly. “It’s been fun, having this channel. You guys are great company. It’s such a shame that most of us will be dead soon, but, until then, this is Roxy Lalonde, signing off. I’ll miss you guys.”

You barely catch a glance at the tears in her eyes before the camera cuts off, and the video ends.

You didn’t notice that Jade had returned until she speaks up from behind you. “Was that Rose’s sister? The one you have a crush on?”

“What? No!” You feel your face get hot, although you totally aren’t blushing. Not you. Nope. “Well, yes, it is Rose’s sister, but I don’t have a crush on her!”

Jade lets out a chuckle. Good. This is progress. “Tell that to your face,” she says, patting you on the head. “And your YouTube history. You’ve watched all of her videos, right?”

You don’t know how to answer that without giving your cousin more ammunition. Luckily, a familiar figure enters the kitchen at that exact moment, offering you an escape. “Jane!”

Jane is busy taking another cake out of the oven. You hope that Dad picks up some more cake mix for her while he, Jake, and Jade’s grandpa are at the store stocking up in case things do get bad. Judging by the six cakes that are already on the counter, she’s been going through a lot of it lately. You get up and ruffle Jane’s short black hair, earning a light smack on the cheek from the short, plump girl. She laughs, and you don’t realize why until you register the feeling of icing on you cheek.

“That’s it!” you laugh, dipping your hand into the icing container for a revenge attack. No one can one-up your prankster gambit. You're the king of pranks. But you never get the chance to reclaim your throne, because the moment your hand touches the icing, everything goes wrong.

You feel it before you hear it. The floor shakes as if there were an earthquake, and you stumble into Jane, making both of you lose your balance. Plaster rains from the ceiling as you fall, and you notice that the room seems a little brighter for some reason. A loud _BOOM_ rips through the air, so loud you can’t hear the sound of the impact as you and Jane hit the floor.

No one moves. No one speaks. The only sound that breaks the pregnant silence that follows is the sharp rasp of terrified breaths. Everything is blurry — _oh, god did something happen to your vision did you hit your head or did the aliens do something or_ — No, wait, your glasses just aren’t on your face anymore. Careful not to move too quickly, you skim your hand along the floor in front of you until you feel the wire frames of your glasses.

“Alright, it’s alright, we’re alright” you gasp, more to reassure yourself than the girls. Now that you’re wearing your glasses, you can see Jade sitting on the floor in front of you, back pressed against the wall. Her chest rises and falls at an alarming rate, and her green eyes are glued to something behind and above you. Slowly, cautiously, you turn around…

And immediately wish you hadn’t. You’ve never been the best at dealing with surprise, but seeing the giant red space ship protruding into the side of your house thoroughly freaks you the hell out.

“HOLY CR–” you start, before Jane claps her warm hand over your mouth, using her other hand to hold her pointer finger to her lips. You get the message loud and clear. The three of you have to be quiet in case anyone, or anything, can hear you. You nod solemnly, and Jane removes her hand.

This ship, you can tell, is not the same as the others. A ridiculous shade of bright, cherry red, yes, but much larger than those you’ve seen in the sky and on the news. All the others were pretty small, about the size of a minivan.This one is at least triple that, and that’s only considering the part that is inside your house, sitting triumphantly atop a pile of debris that used to be your kitchen wall.

This can’t be happening, you think. It’s so surreal, taking in the damage of the house you’ve lived in since birth, taking in the otherworldly machine that definitely didn’t belong here. Despite the terror that the ship instills in you, you can’t help but feel some sort of draw to it, an itching in the back of your brain that really wants to get closer, to touch it. You swear you can almost hear a voice beckoning to you, begging you to approach.

 _Come here, John_.

You shake your head, trying to dispel the idea, but no. You can definitely hear a voice now. Well, voices. Hundreds of them, thousands of them, all speaking in unison.

_Help us, John._

“Can you hear that?” you say, trying to turn to your sister but finding it impossible to tear your gaze from ship.

“Hear what?”

_Set us free, John!_

“The– the voices!” you exclaim. How can she not hear them? They are getting louder now. You instinctively cover your ears, but it does nothing to quiet them.

_It’s dark in here, John!_

_We’re trapped, John!_

_LET US OUT, JOHN!_

“John, you’re scaring me,” you think you hear Jane say, but her words are mostly lost due to the screaming in your head.

_WE NEED YOU, JOHN!_

_WE WON’T HURT YOU, JOHN!_

You believe the voices. They won’t hurt you. You should let them out - wait, no. That's just the voices talking, you can’t-

_SET US FREE, JOHN!!!_

You don’t even remember standing, yet here you are, your hand inches from the glossy red exterior of the ship. You hesitate, pulling your hand back.

_TOUCH THE SHIP, JOHN!!!_

You slap your hand against the ship, although you aren’t really sure why. There seems to be some kind of disconnect between you and the movement of your body, as if your arm has a mind of its own. The second your skin makes contact, you can hear a series of whirrs and clicks from inside the ship, and a door you never noticed slides open, revealing a dark corridor.

Your foot steps forward without you telling it to. The pull of the ship is stronger now, and you want nothing more than to go inside. So you do.

Jade and Jane are screaming for you to stop, but their voices are cut off when the door to ship slides closed behind you. Suddenly the draw of the ship dissipates and you want nothing more than to not be inside the ship. What had come over you? Why on Earth would any sane, reasonable person just waltz on into a possibly hostile spaceship?! You try to open the door, but there doesn’t appear to be a handle or keypad or anything that seems like it could open it. Having no other apparent option, you beat your fists against the inside of the door, frantic and scared and unsure what to do next.

Something vibrates in your pocket, offering a distraction from the gut-wrenching fear that has been building inside you for the last few minutes. Shakily, you retrieve Dad’s PDA from your back pocket. Looks like Dave has finally replied to your messages. You open Pesterchum. Maybe he can give you some advice.

**\----- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB]-----**

TG: dude you were right about the aliens  
TG: i mean when you told me about a ufo hitting jades house i thought it was just part of your prankster gambit or whatever it is you call that crap  
TG:but there are actual ufos flying over my roof right now  
TG:ive been sitting on the roof just watching them for a while now  
TG: like WOW LOOK AT THAT ONE GO it just totally WRECKED that ladys car  
TG: haha oh man she looks PISSED but i mean who wouldnt be upset if a mysterious extraterrestrial spacecraft mowed down your prius  
TG: time to call up your lawyers and sue this bitch  
TG:people take their personal possessions way too seriously here tbh like we have much bigger problems here  
TG: like what dave  
TG: oh i dont know AN ALIEN INVASION  
TG: i bet theres a lot less danger for you all in the middle of literally nowhere like what even happens in washington  
EB: well for starters a spaceship hit my house!!!  
TG: oh shit really  
TG: did it demolish your place or just kinda tap it like a prepubescent teen playing cookie clicker  
EB: ummm...well as far as actual damage goes i’m not entirely sure!  
EB: it busted through the wall in the kitchen so there’s definitely some major damage but…  
EB: i didn’t really get a chance to investigate before i went inside the spaceship.  
TG: …  
TG: what do you mean by went inside the spaceship exactly  
TG: because i dont know if youve been paying attention to news but not even the fucking military can open those suckers  
TG: like they went full out nuke town on that thing and it didn’t even budge  
EB: well i just kind of put my hand on it and it opened???  
EB: but then the door closed behind me and now i’m stuck.  
EB: and i’m kind of freaking out and could use some advice so if you would please not be a giant douche for once and just…  
EB: tell me what to do?  
TG: okay  
TG: okay yeah ill help but this better not be another one of your pranks egbert or i swear on the life of my turn tables that i will end you  
TG: no wait you arent important enough to lose my turn tables over  
TG: like no offense dude but  
EB: DAVE!  
EB: i’m inside a creepy spaceship.  
EB: the door won’t open.  
EB: i’m freaking out.  
EB: what do i do?

You take a deep breath. Dave, although he means well (you guess), is terrible at staying on topic. Maybe you should ask Rose instead? No, there’s no time for that. Plus Dave has already replied.

TG: okay on the off chance that this is real ill help  
TG: first things first i need to know whats going on exactly  
TG: tell me what you see

Using the light from the PDA screen, you look around the dark space.

EB: i’m in some sort of hallway.  
EB: it’s dark, but i have the light from my screen so i’m alright for now.  
EB: well, as alright as someone could be in this situation.  
EB: there’s nothing on the door that looks like it could open it.  
EB: no handles, keypads, buttons  
EB:there’s nothing really of interest in here at all actually!  
EB: ugh i hate to even type this but  
EB: should i go down the dark and mysterious hallway?  
TG: that seems to be your only option  
TG: besides anything is better than standing in place  
EB: :(  
EB: yeah. i guess you’re right, though.  
EB: okay, here i go.  
EB: wish me luck.

You breathe in deeply one last time before setting off down the hallway. It’s narrow and straight, with no obstacles in your way. The hall must not actually be that long either, because before you know it, you find yourself standing in front of another door, similarly void of any handles or other logical ways to open it. Something tells you, though, that this one will open. It wants you to open it. You place your hand on the door.

You hear the whirring and clicking again, and the door unceremoniously slides open.

EB: okay, i’m at another door.  
EB: this one opens.  
EB: i’m going in.

You don’t wait for a reply, knowing that if you wait too long, you’ll be too scared to go in.

This room, although still dim, is lit well enough for you not to need the light from the PDA. This is probably due to the large quantity of computer screens lining three out of the four walls of the room. Lines of texts scroll across several of the screens closest to you, but as you lean in to get a closer look you realize that it is not in your language. In fact, the words do not appear to be in any language you’ve ever heard of. You guess this is to be expected in an alien spaceship. You do know from your limited experience in computer programming that the text is formatted like code.

The other screens all show what appears to be live feed of the other smaller space ships, each screen showing feed from a different ship for a few seconds before moving on to a new one. Some in cities, some in corn fields, some in houses or streets or palaces. Some in the forest, the desert, the tundra, the ocean. You knew there were a lot of ships but the sheer magnitude of it all didn’t hit you until now. THey covered every inch of the Earth. You can only hope that whatever is behind all of this is friendly.

Something tells you you’re about to find out.

In the direct center of the room is a large glass chamber filled with what appears to be green slime. Inside of the slime is a large roughly spherical object covered in haphazard orange spikes. You aren’t really sure how else to describe it.

The spikes on the object start to quiver as you approach, as if it is reacting to your presence. You feel the same attraction for the object as you had for the ship earlier, a deep desire in your gut to get closer to it. Before you’re even aware that you picked it up, the object is in your hands, green slime covering your arms up to your elbows.

This is starting to get really freaky, you think.

The object is quivering even more now, down-right shaking actually. _SET US FREE, JOHN!_ You shout in surprise at the voices and reflexively drop the object. It cracks open as it hits the floor.

Inwardly, you scream every single obscenity you know and then some. Outwardly, you stand perfectly still. Afraid to move, afraid to breathe, as something crawls out of the shattered remains of what you can now only assume was some sort of egg. It looks kind of like a beetle, except it's about three inches long and has an odd glow to it. As you backpedal the hell away from it, you realize that the beetle-thing has a dark magenta exterior, six spindly legs, and long, slightly curved horns protruding from the top of its head. Its bright pink eyes seem to stare straight into your soul, leaving you no doubt that this is an intelligent creature.

More of these beetle-like creature begin to scatter out from the shattered remains of the egg, all of them nearly identical to the first one. There must be at least a couple hundred. You begin to wonder how so many of them fit inside that one egg.

You don’t have time to wonder long, however, because all of the creatures turn their attention towards you. They bite at your feet, deep enough to draw blood from your exposed skin. A few of them try to climb up your legs. You kick at them but there’s too many of them for you to fight off single-handedly, regardless of how small they are. Your foot slips in the green slime that splattered onto the floor when the egg fell, and you go down. Hard. You barely have time to register that you’re on the floor before they’re all over you, climbing on your arms, your chest, your face. They seem to be aiming for your face actually, because several of them seem to be trying to crawl into your mouth.

“That is enough!”

The beetle-things freeze instantly. Several of them climb down from your face and look down at the floor in what you can interpret as guilt —like a bunch of disobedient children. You take this as an opportunity to scramble to your feet.

The owner of the voice is hard to spot at first, due to the fact that she is mostly transparent.

A woman stands in front of you —at least you think it’s a woman due to its surprisingly feminine features. She’s at least a head taller than you, and that’s not including the long curved horns protruding from the top of her head. Her features are hard to see due to her transparency, but you can make out confident eyes and a wild mass of hair that falls all the way to the floor. She glows with a magenta light similar in hue to the eyes of the beetle-creatures. She’s quite intimidating, you admit, and you really hope she can’t hear how loudly your heart is pounding in your chest.

She spreads her arms our wide in greeting. “John, my darling! Oh, you have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

You struggle to use your voice. “What are you? Who! I mean, who are you?”

Her laugh reminds you of someone gurgling water. “I’m Her Imperious Condescension, the crowned Empress of Alternia,” she says. “And you, John, can call me ‘Your Highness.’”

There she goes calling you John again. “How do you know my name?” you ask shakily, before quickly adding, “Your Highness.” Something tells you it would not end well for you if you failed to treat her with the respect she desires.

“We’ve known about you for a long time, boy. Sweeps before we even began this mission,” she tells you. “Now, I was a little skeptical about coming to Earth at first, mind you. It’s a long trip, and while I still have quite a few good years left in me, I didn’t want to waste that many just rotting away inside my ship. The other option would be to freeze my soul inside ‘a the matriorb with all these little grubs, but matriorbs can be tricky because they require an outside force to open ‘em. But several of my most talented pawns, er, subjects, were confident that a human would come to our aid. They saw visions in the clouds of a human boy named John breaking open the matriorb. So like the reasonable and trusting leader I am, I went on with the mission as planned.”

She flashes you a brilliant smile. “And then you came, just as they predicted. You set us free, John, so I will make good of my promise.”

Your head swims with unfamiliar terms. “What promise?”

“We won’t hurt you, John. At least, we won’t use you as a host or harm you intentionally. But sometimes shit happens, you know?” she laugh. It’s hard for you to process an alien Empress swearing.

You remember now, the voices saying that they wouldn’t hurt you. You hadn’t known what that meant at the time, and you still don’t if you’re being honest with yourself. What was that she said about using him as a host?

The Empress cocks an eyebrow, as if expecting something. You avert your gaze, unable to meet her staring eyes. What does she want from you?

“Well?” Her voice is clipped. Oh no, she’s mad. What did you do? What do you do?

“Well...what?” you say uncertainly, terrified that you’ll say the wrong thing.

She sniffs. “It isn’t every day I promise not to harm someone, much less a weakling like yourself. In fact I’d say it is quite rare. Aren’t you going to thank me?’”

You sigh, relieved. That’s all she wants? You can do that. But as you open your mouth to speak, she cuts you off.

“No no no. You should always kneel when addressing your Empress, boy. Didn’t you learn that in your school feeding?”

“Uhhh…”

“KNEEL!” she snaps, pressing her hand down on your shoulder. You collapse to your knees, your legs suddenly unable to support your weight. You feel exhausted, and you notice with a start that the Empress looks more… solid. You can see her features distinctly now, from the large pointed teeth protruding from her full black lips to the golden piercings over her fin-like ears. The glow emanating from her is so bright you find yourself squinting as you look up at her.

The Empress places her foot on the back of your head, slamming your face into the floor with so much force you see stars. The longer her foot stays in contact with your skin, the more tired you feel. What is she doing to you? You stay perfectly still, forehead pressed against the cold metal tiles.

“Much better!” the Empress laughs, and you suppress a shudder. You’ve decided that despite her promise, she definitely wishes to harm you. “Now, John, don’t you have something to say to me?”

“Thank you.” You force the words out through gritted teeth, wanting nothing more than to sock the alien queen right in the jaw. That is, if you weren’t so absolutely freaking terrified.

“Thank you what?” she growls.

“Thank you, _Your Highness_.” You try your best to keep your voice level, but you suspect that she can hear the agitation in your voice.

The Empress doesn’t seem to mind, though. “Much better,” she says, stretching her back as if she just woke up from a nap. “Well, as much as I’ve enjoyed this chat, I think it’s time for me to go. Another planet to invade, a universe to conquer. It’s a rough business, kid, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

She walks past you and into the corridor, the beetle-things scuttling in her wake. She looks completely solid now, not even a hint of transparency left. You can hear the faint whirring of the door opening as she leaves.

Once you’re alone in the room, you bury your face in your hands, trying —and failing—to control your breathing. _What is happening what did you do?!_

The amount of effort it takes for you to upright leaves you lightheaded. You focus your attention on the computer screens across from you. It takes a few seconds for your groggy mind to concentrate enough to notice what’s different about the screens now.. Instead of displaying lifeless, inactive vessels like they did before, the screens show you that the doors to every single ship are now opened, with thousands of beetle-like creatures pouring out of each. They seem to be segregated by color, the ships releasing beetles ranging in hue from burgundy to brown, to yellow, to teal, to purple. To your dismay, you notice that they all have wings and are now taking to the skies in swarms. Every now and then you think you see a nearly translucent figure escape from one of the ships, similar to the Empress in form, but of different colors.

There’s just too many of them, you realize. Hundreds of thousands of ships each filled with hundreds of thousands of these creatures, beings from another world that want to use humans as hosts, you gather, although you still aren't sure exactly what that means. How can you fight against something of this magnitude?

TG: yo john whats happening  
TG: youve been in there an awfully long time are you alright  
TG: helloooo earth to john here  
TG: do we have a problem because if so you better let houston know  
TG: thats me  
TG: im houston  
TG: in case that wasnt clear  
TG: …  
TG: i guess ill just wait here for a bit  
TG: message me when you can alright  
TG: dont get probed or anything  
TG: see ya  
EB: dave  
TG: he lives  
TG: its a freaking miracle  
TG: what I mean no I totally believed in you the entire time of course youre alright  
TG: haha nope not a doubt in my mind that youd make it  
TG: ...  
TG: so im guessing you didn't get probed then  
TG: ...  
TG: john

You aren’t sure how long you just sit there, staring at the screen of the PDA, trying to process everything that just happened. How on earth will you explain it all to Dave, or anyone for that matter?

EB: dave i  
EB: i think i just started the end of the world.

 

 

You’re still on the floor of the computer room when you hear the screaming. You’re kind of glad for it, because the sound brings you out of your numb state, renewing your sense of urgency. Is your sister alright? Is Jade? The Empress...the beetles, _no no nononono._ She promised not to hurt you but something tells you she has no problem with hurting your relatives.You struggle to your feet, fighting off the wave of nausea that follows. Yeah, you’re going to need the support of the wall if you want to get anywhere.

The journey through the corridor takes a lot longer than you remember it being when you came in, and, by the time you can see the light at the end of this completely non-metaphorical tunnel, you feel like passing out. The Empress must have stolen your energy, you conclude, and used it to give herself more power. Greedy witch. But, greedy witch or not, it looks like she left the exterior door to the ship open for you. How considerate.

Your house is a lot brighter than the corridor, so the moment you reach the doorway you are temporarily blinded. Your eyes have barely adjusted before you feel a warm body slam into yours, strong arms wrapping around your waist.

“John!” Jade cries, “Thank God you’re alright! When you didn’t come out right away and I saw all those.. those things.. I thought-”

“You saw them?” you slur, too weary to properly function. After a quick glance around the room, you confirm that you and Jade are the only living creatures present. “What happened?”

“All of these weird pink bugs came out of the ship and started crawling all over Jane! She was freaking out and I was freaking out and we were trying to get all of them off her when they just stopped.”

“Stopped?”

“Yeah, all of a sudden they all just flew off her and left. I can't figure out why,” Jade furrows her brow. “Jane is still pretty shaken up. She went to the bathroom a few minutes ago. To make sure all the bugs were off of her I guess.”

“I should go check on her,” you mean to say, but the slurring has gotten so bad you aren’t sure that Jade could even understand you. You push your body past her, only to find yourself in the floor moments later.

Jade crouches beside you, eyes wide with panic or fear or maybe a little bit of both as she guides you into a seated position. “John! Are you alright? What happened?”

“Nothing, I'm fine. I'm just really, really tired.” Lies. Your vision is so blurry that you can barely even recognize Jade’s face even though it's inches from yours.

“Come on, let's get you to the couch. And while we're at it, I want you to tell me everything that happened from the moment that ship crashed into the house. Every single thing, got it?”

“Got it.”

 

It takes you a long, long time to explain every detail of your encounter with the Empress to Jade, probably because you keep drifting off in the middle of sentences and your cousin has to shake your shoulders every few minutes to bring you back to reality. You eventually get through it though, and Jade excuses herself to go message Rose, before very sternly telling you to go to sleep.

Sleep comes easily —scary easily in your opinion, as your eyes have barely closed before you're out like a light — but it is interrupted by one last violent shake of your shoulders. According to the clock on the wall above you, you'd only been asleep for about ten minutes. Jade stands above you, visibly panicked.

“Gah, what it is,” you mutter, struggling to enter the realm of consciousness. “I thought you wanted me to sleep.”

“I know, John. I hate to bother you like this when you really should be sleeping, but—” She averts her gaze, hesitating as if the news may upset you.

“But what? Did something happen? Is everything alright?”

Jade meets your eyes this time, and you can tell by her solemn expression that something definitely did happen and everything is definitely not alright.

“Jane is missing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've enjoyed the story so far. Next chapter is in Dave's POV and is when all the action starts! Please feel free to leave constructive criticism in the comments, because I really want to improve my writing skills. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Song for this chapter: The Kids Aren't Alright by Fall Out Boy


	2. Fluidity

The end of the world does wonders for family bonding, you think.

Your name is DAVE STRIDER, and you’ve been watching THE END OF THE WORLD unfold from the screen of the small television for the last THREE HOURS. Your older brother, DIRK, sits on the opposite end of the dusty couch, head resting on his clenched fists as he listens to the news reporter spout off the new statistics. This is the most time you’ve spent with your brother in - well, you can’t remember how long. Probably ever. Despite living in the same dingy apartment with the guy ever since you were a kid, the two of you don’t really interact much. Unless you count the rooftop sparring sessions, AKA your daily dose of getting your ass thoroughly and utterly kicked.

According to the news reporter, at least two billion people have already fallen to the illness. You scoff at that —of course, even after everything that happens they still refuse to credit the aliens. You still aren’t sure exactly what’s going on, even after watching the news footage for hours. All you know is that the weird insectile creatures crawl into the mouth of some poor unsuspecting human, and said human immediately falls unconscious. The first victims have been asleep for hours, most passed out on the streets or in their homes or cars, unable to find proper shelter when the swarm came. You figure that you should probably feel bad for them, but you're too caught up in your own survival and the survival of your friends to care.

Two billion people in three hours. It's all happening so fast, way faster than anyone could have ever predicted. Now that the world is beginning to crumble, it won’t be long before it collapses completely.

“If we’re going to do something, we need to do it now,” you say, breaking the tense silence that has permeated the apartment ever since this all started. You don’t think you can just sit here much longer. “I’ve been talking with Rose. She’s filthy freakin rich. Even has an underground facility underneath her mansion in New York. She said that we could crash there and ride out this whole apocalypse mess with her and her mom.”

Dirk doesn’t respond immediately. He ticks his jaw, a bad habit of his that you notice only surfaces when he’s thinking real hard about something, like when he’s writing algorithms for his robots or trying to decide what pizza topping to order. “And how do you expect to get to New York exactly? It’s at least a day’s drive,and that’s not even factoring in sleeping or other drivers or, oh, I don’t know, the freaking apocalypse.”

“Technically, the apocalypse isn’t here yet. That’s why I suggest we get a move on before things get too bad and we’re stuck here!”

Dirk pinches his fingers against the bridge of his nose and lets out a long, deep sigh, as if emptying every ounce of carbon dioxide left in his lungs will automatically fix this broken world. “I hate to admit it, I really do, but you might be right. The roads will only get worse as the interstates get blocked up with the stalled cars of the … ill. Our best chance to get anywhere safe is if we leave as soon as possible. We can’t stay in this apartment forever, as much as I’d like to.”

Ugh. Even your own brother won’t admit that whatever is happening here is too big to be caused by some illness. Despite all of the freaking ufos crash landing all over the place, despite all of the people lying unconscious in the streets, it looks like everyone still wants to pretend that life is just fine and dandy and normal. Either way, it looks like you've won your case. At least, you won half of your case. Convincing Dirk to take you to New York was the easy part.

Dirk pushes himself off the couch, clicking the power button on the remote in one fluid motion. He does everything in one fluid motion, you notice. Fluidity is efficient, and if Dirk Strider is anything, it's efficient. (And cool, although you'd never, ever admit that too him. It'd inflate his colossal ego so much that it'd probably explode.) “Go get your stuff. Only one bag. Only what’s absolutely vital. We leave in half an hour.”

He heads for his own room before you can even tell him to wait. You didn’t even tell him about the second half of Rose’s plan yet! Oh well. You’ll just have to bring it up again later after you pack your bag.

You really like your room. Seriously, you freakin’ love your room, so much so that you almost regret convincing Dirk to leave the apartment. Your vintage posters, your collection of dead things persevered in jars, your turntables, your computer...all things you now have to leave behind. It kind of breaks your heart a little, another thing you'd never admit.

You dance around the minefield that is your bedroom floor, trying to decide what you can take with you. Clothes, of course. You pack an extra pair of pants, two extra shirts, socks, and underwear into your duffel bag. You throw in your deodorant , hair gel, and an unopened bottle of aj that you found in your closet (sweet!) as well. What else? Your ipod, obviously, and some headphones and your portable battery pack. If those aren’t “absolutely vital” you don’t know what is. A couple of notebooks and pens would be nice, so you can still draw comics without your tablet and computer. The duffel bag is almost full now, so you decide to fill the rest up with snacks. Doritos, water bottles, a couple packs of PopTarts. There. You'd like to see anyone argue that that's not the most perfect apocalypse survival bag, because that's an argument they would lose!

There’s a knock at your door, drawing your attention away from your task. Dirk leans against your door frame, an orange backpack slung over his shoulder. His stance is tense, every muscle screaming alert! like an experienced soldier sent out to war. He's gone into battle-mode, which baffles you because you don't think your brother has ever been in a real battle in his life. (Beating up a teenage boy on the roof of your apartment complex does not count as a real battle, you think.) “You done, kid?”

You want to say some sarcastic comment about him calling you kid, considering he’s only three years older than you. But you don’t. Dirk may only be nineteen, but having to practically raise your sorry ass throughout his entire childhood is a good enough reason for him to act like your parent. Your other brother and actual legal guardian is never home, due to his demanding career making low budget films and whatever else it is that he does. You close up your duffel back, hoping that Dirk doesn't hear the crinkling of the PopTart wrappers as you struggle with the cheap rusted zipper, and take one last look at your room before giving your brother a solemn nod.

You never thought you'd see the day that you'd be sad to leave this place. But it's here, and you are, and you're suddenly really freaking grateful for your shades because what, no, you're eyes are definitely not wet, because Striders don't cry. At least not in front of other people, and definitely not in front of other Striders. The other Strider doesn't seem to notice your sudden state of emotional turmoil, though. He pulls out and unfolds a stack of crisp, colored paper from the pocket of his jeans.

“Okay, I’ve printed off some maps that should get us most of the way to New York, but your friend will need to help us out with the specifics once we get close to her place,” he says, never once looking up from the maps. “Think she can manage that?”

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely. Listen…” You swallow, knowing he’s not going to like what you say next, the second part of Rose’s plan. “There is somewhere we need to stop by before we head to New York.”

“What, like a gas station?” he asks. “Don’t worry, I’ve got food covered and I filled up the truck yesterday, so we should be fine.”

“No, not a gas station exactly…” You don’t remember at what point you started rubbing the back of your neck.

“Oh? Well, where then?” Dirk crosses his arms, finally looking at you and not the papers in his hands. You need to get to the point. He doesn’t like stalling. Stalling is the opposite of efficient.

You cross your arms, mirroring your brother’s stance perfectly, and look him dead in the eye. Well, you would be if you could see his eyes beneath his dark shades.

“We need to go to Washington State.”

 

 

**Dave--- > Give Dirk the silent treatment**

You lean against the passenger side door of your brother’s rusted orange truck, trying to find something, anything, to look at besides him. You understand. You really do. A detour to Washington would triple the time of your trip, and you need to get to New York ASAP. Just because you understand, though, doesn’t mean you aren’t pissed. Your friends are in Washington! They need you! Well, Jade insists that she does not in fact need you, that she is perfectly capable of getting herself and John to New York on her own, but you think she could use all the help she could get. Especially considering John appears to be down for the count right now.

Ugh, why does everyone have to disagree with you today? Grumbling a little to yourself, you prop your sneakers up on the dashboard and pull out your phone. Maybe it will help to talk to the one person you aren’t mad at. You can update her on the state of the plan, at least.

**\----- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]-----**

TG: thats it looks like harley and egdork are on there own  
TG: my bro wont budge on this one  
TG: were on our way to your place though  
TG: should be there by this time tomorrow if nothing goes wrong  
TG: but who are we kidding right this is the freaking apocalypse shits bound to go down  
TT: I see.  
TT: How long did you spend trying to convince your brother to go to Washington, exactly?  
TG: about five minutes  
TG: if that  
TG: but i did yell at him all the way to the parking garage so that adds about ten minutes to my total i guess  
TT: Is that so?  
TT: I’m disappointed, Strider. I thought you’d last a lot longer than that before you gave up on our plan.  
TT: You were supposed to convince him, not just ask and hope he agrees with whatever you say.  
TG: whoa chill with the condescending bullshit rose  
TG: i know my brother  
TG: i know when hes going to budge on something and when i might as well quit trying  
TG: in this case its the latter  
TG: if you want to try to convince him with your  jedi mind tricks or whatever you call that reverse psychology crap youre always talking about be my guest  
TG: ill give you his pesterchum handle  
TG: hes even got the same acronym as you wow look at that it must be fate  
TT: Calm down.  
TT: It seems to me that you are projecting your anger at your brother onto me, which you can do if you want, but I must warn you it would be a huge waste of time.  
TT: Time is something we need on our side right now, remember?  
TG: yeah i know i know  
TG: time is why im currently going ninety freaking mph when the speed limits forty five  
TT: I can talk to your brother if you want, but if you truly think he won’t budge, I believe you.  
TT: I’ll find other arrangements for John and Jade.  
TT: Just worry about your own survival for now.  
TT: And just because we are facing an impending apocalypse does not mean that a car crash has any less likelihood.  
TT: Tell your brother to take his time.  
TT: No sense dying before you get here because Striders can’t obey traffic laws.  
TG: no its fine  
TG: getting out of houston was pretty rough with all those people passed out in the streets and cars  
TG: but now that were not in the city the roads are really clear  
TG: seriously its like the fucking sahara desert out here i haven’t seen a soul  
TG: i guess everybody is too afraid to leave their homes  
TG: which is understandable with all those bugs flying around and  
TG: what is it they do  
TG: crawl up inside people and put them to sleep i dont know  
TT: Based on what I have seen on the news and what John told me while he was still conscious, I think the aliens need our energy.  
TT: John reported that after the Empress touched him, he felt drained, all while she looked stronger.  
TT: It’s as if she literally sapped his energy out through physical contact.  
TT: Now, the “hosts” fall asleep after the aliens enter their system.  
TT: I suspect these aliens are weaker than the Empress, and therefore need a lot more energy before than can properly function.  
TG: as weird as that all is i have to admit that it makes sense  
TG: what happens when the aliens have enough energy  
TG: do they become solid like the empress  
TT: John said something about the aliens needing the humans as hosts, so I suspect they plan to do more than simply steal our energy.  
TT: A full body takeover would be my best guess.  
TT: And Dave?  
TG: yeah  
TT: When the hosts wake back up, you better make sure you are already here.  
TT: The statistics are up to nearly three billion now and are steadily rising.  
TT: If you are still on the road at that point, you better pray to God or whatever deity you do or don’t believe in that the aliens aren’t hostile.  
TT: Or else you are, for lack of a better word, screwed.

You take a moment to curse out loud, the sound muffled by the bandana wrapped snuggly around your mouth. It was Dirk’s idea to wear them. The fabric won't entirely stop the bugs from getting to your mouths, but it would at least slow them down enough for you to get away. Hopefully. You’ve been lucky enough to have not had to test the theory yet.

Dirk is clutching the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles have gone white. The rap music blasting from the truck’s already crappy speakers is probably not helping to ease his nerves, you bet. Instead of turning it down, however, you turn the knob on the stereo as far up as it will go, pull your bandana down off of your mouth, and yell as loudly as you can above the already ear-splitting music, “Step on it!”

Dirk grunts in agreement—or at least you think he does, considering you can’t even hear your own thoughts over the stereo— and you see the jerk in his knee as he presses the gas pedal as far down as it will go. The old truck rattles dangerously as it reaches speeds in the triple digits. The quicker you can get to New York, the better.

What Rose doesn’t know won’t hurt her, you tell yourself. Although it may hurt you.

TG: well be there before you know it  
TG: hey where are you anyway  
TG: in the bunker i assume  
TT: Actually, we aren’t in the bunker yet.  
TT; Ever since I told her of your impending arrival, my mother has insisted that we clean the house for our “party guests”.  
TT: Even though the house is already practically spotless, and it is not like anyone is going to care if the furniture is polished while they are busy trying not to become the hosts of parasitic aliens.  
TT: I think she is just doing this to antagonize me.  
TT: Even the end of the world, she has to have the last laugh.  
TT: Roxy says I am overthinking this whole thing, but I’m not so sure.  
TT: She always does things like this.  
TT: Roxy thinks it’s cute, that Mom wants to impress my friends, but of course she would say that.  
TT: She’s just like her. Same sense of humor, same interests.  
TT: Even the same alcohol addiction!  
TT: Honestly, we can’t go a day in this house without someone passing out or complaining about their hangover.  
TT: I can’t wait for you and your brother to get here, actually.  
TT: It would be nice to not be the only sensible and sober person for once!  
TT: Wait, your brother doesn’t drink, does he?  
TG: no he doesnt drink  
TG: or at least i dont think he does  
TG: i actually dont know him all that well tbh  
TG: id ask him if my ears werent already bleeding from all these sick beats  
TT: Don’t worry about it.  
TT: I wasn’t actually meaning to ask; I was just ranting.  
TT: Sorry.  
TG: no dont apologize  
TG: please continue your rant  
TG: your family drama is the only thing keeping me entertained during this twenty four hour drive with the man who is quite possibly the least social being on the entire freaking earth  
TG: maybe even in the entire freaking universe since according to egbert the bug queen is pretty chatty  
TG: honestly this whole trip my bro has only said about three words  
TG: those words being “shut” “up” and “dave”  
TT: Haha.  
TT: I’m sure he’s not that bad.  
TG: yeah you laugh now but wait till you meet the guy  
TG: actually no scratch that  
TG: with my luck youll probably like him  
TG: youre actually a lot alike although you arent nearly as cool as he is  
TG: and you talk a lot more  
TG: actually you talk a little too much if you know what i mean  
TT: No, Dave, I do not know what you mean.  
TT: Care to enlighten me, since you seem to be the expert on what the exactly perfect rate of words that a human being can project from one’s mouth per minute.  
TG: sorry to interrupt the sass rose but shits going down  
TG: i think theres something in the road up there  
TG: pretty sure its not anything important though  
TG: yeah nah its just a station wagon  
TG: wait  
TG: HOLY SHJKL;’

**\----- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]-----**

Your phone flies out of your hand as Dirk slams on the breaks, and if it weren’t for the seat belt he insisted that you wore, you would’ve gone through the windshield. Shakily, you drop your feet from the dash and slide your hand underneath the seat belt to rub your shoulder. Yeah, you’re going to have a wicked bruise there. “Dirk! What the hell?”

“What do you mean ‘what the hell?’” Dirk snaps, finally loosening his grip on the steering wheel long enough to turn down the stereo. “Would you have preferred that I collided with those cars and got us killed?”

You see what he means now. The station wagon you saw in the road earlier is right in front of you now, a mere few feet from the front bumper of Dirk’s truck. You thought that he would just drive around it, but you know now that that would have been impossible.The station wagon is far from the only car in front of you. The entire highway is covered, and the line of vehicles extends farther than you can even see. It looks like everyone decided to leave Houston before you did, and now they’re at a stand still.

You realize with a start that if Dirk’s instincts had been even milliseconds slower, you would be dead right now.

You make a mental note to try to be a little nicer to your brother from here on out.

“We can’t stay here,” you gasp. Getting to New York suddenly seems like an impossible task, considering you’re barely out of Houston and you’ve hit a wall already. There's no way on Earth the two of you can make it halfway across the country if the roads are like this everywhere.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Dirk mutters as he puts the truck into reverse. Despite the sarcasm, you suspect that he's thinking along the same lines that you are. “I saw an exit not too far back. We’ll take it and try to find a way back onto the highway that’s ahead of this mess.”

You nod, although you’re pretty sure he didn't see you. Not that it matters. Anything is better than being trapped in one place, especially when the thing you're trying to avoid can fly and travel by swarm. You doubt, though, that you'll be able to find much highway that isn't in the same jammed-up condition as this one. Maybe Rose has thought of a Plan B?

**\-----tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]-----**

TT: Dave?  
TT: What happened?  
TT: Oh God, Dave, tell me that the aliens didn't get you.  
TT: Wow, that is a sentence that I never thought I would type while being completely and utterly serious about it.  
TT: Come on, don't make me ride out the apocalypse alone with my eccentric and perpetually tipsy relatives in a confined space for what could end up being years for all I know.  
TT: Because I don't think I could handle it, Dave.  
TT: I would pull out my hair. All of it.  
TT: Do you think I would look good bald, Dave?  
TT: Because I’m not so sure that that would be a good look for me.  
TT: …  
TT: Hold on, I think something is happening.  
TT: I just heard Roxy scream, and something broke, and now the house is eerily silent.  
TT: I am putting my Pesterchum handle on idle for a few minutes while I check things out.  
TT: It doesn't appear that you are going to respond anytime soon regardless.  
TT: See you later, hopefully.  
TT: …  
TT: Bye.

**\-----tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]-----**

**\----- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]-----**

TG: yo im back  
TG: nevermind looks like you have your hands full  
TG: sorry to leave you hanging like that  
TG: ill spare you the details but long story short we might need another way to get to new york  
TG: the roads are packed tighter than sardines  
TG: my bro is trying to find some way around all of it but really who are we kidding  
TG: unless you happen to own a helicopter i dont see us getting to your place before next week  
TG: wait you dont own a helicopter do you  
TG: nevermind dont answer that it was probably a stupid question  
TG: unless you do have a helicopter then please by all means send it over 

**\----- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]-----**

 

 

The next few hours are some of the most frustrating ones you believe you've ever experienced. As expected, every time Dirk tries to get the two of you back onto the main highway, you're greeted with the same type of blockade. At least the people in the cars all seem to be awake and not the hosts of energy-sapping extraterrestrial parasites, so the traffic is still moving, although progress seems to be painstakingly slow.

There have been several other cars zooming about, trying to find some way to get around this mess just like you are. There are also a lot of cars sitting still, the doors open as if the occupants had to leave, and they had to leave fast. Typically you see said occupants lying on the asphalt a few feet away from the vehicle, unconscious but otherwise unharmed. There still don't appear to be that many hosts around compared to what's been going on around the world, so part of you assumes that this area has just been spared of the brunt of the damage so far.

Rose hasn't messaged you back for hours, and, although you'd never admit it to her, you’re starting to get really freaking worried. She is the last person that anything bad should be happening to, all warm and snug in her cliff side mansion while the rest of you are out here exposed and vulnerable, but you can't get rid of that nagging feeling in the back of your mind that everything is about to go wrong. You're probably getting worked up over nothing. For all you know, Roxy could have been so drunk she dropped a freaking vase or something, and Rose got so lost in taking care of the mess that she forgot to message you back.

You hope that's the case, at least.

“Maybe we should just give up on the interstate plan,” Dirk says, allowing you to escape from your thoughts. “Who knows how far traffic is backed up.”

“What, and drive all the way to New York using only back roads? Do you know how long that would take?”

“Too long. That's why I'm not suggesting we take back roads all the way to New York.”

“Then what are you suggesting?”

“We could head back to the apartment. Pick up some supplies from the store on the way back. Barricade the doors and windows until this whole thing blows over.

“What? No. That's stupid.”

“Excuse me? Do you have a better plan?”

“Yes! Well, actually, not really, but I do know that your plan sucks. Back at the apartment, we'd be sitting ducks. You heard what the news said. Those things can bore holes through walls and wood. No barricade we put up will hold them for long! We'd be stuck with nowhere to run to and no way to fight back besides curl up in the fetal position hope they go away and don't crawl up inside of us. I don't want to die like that. Do you want us to die like that?”

“We're not going to die at all, you hear me? We'll figure something out. We always do. We're Striders. We don't fail.”

“You can't solve everything just because you're a Strider. What does that even mean, anyway? Nothing! It's just a name, and a stupid one at that.”

“Dave—”

“Turning back now would be a real freaking cowardly thing to do, you know. And if there's one thing that you taught me after all these years, it's that I should never be a coward. Are you going back on that, now?”

“Going to New York is suicide!”

“Staying here is suicide! At least if we make it to New York we have a real fighting chance!”

“That's a pretty big if. It's not safe for us to be on the roads for as long as it would take us to get to New York by back road”

“Who cares if it's safe? It's the freaking apocalypse. Nothing is safe.”

“The Earth held approximately 7.4 billion people yesterday, Dave. And today, half of those people are unconscious in the streets. Half. After what, like seven hours? What makes you think we can last the next several days while out in the open like this?”

“Rose needs me, Dirk. At least I think she does. She might be in danger. I get having to abandon John and Jade in Washington, but I can't ditch her too, not after she's risked her life and the lives of her family trying to help us.”

“ Look, I'm sorry about your friends, but they are not my concern. You are! And sooner or later you are going to have to cope with the fact that your friends are going to die. These are dangerous times, and honestly it's a miracle they haven't died or been taken already.”

“You know what, screw you. My friends are going to be fine. We're going to fine.”

“Oh, grow up, would you! You can't seriously believe that everything is going to be fine simply because you want it to be!”

“I hate you, you know that. I always thought you were so cool and so tough but now I know the truth. You're weak. You're weak and selfish and cowardly and I hate you!”

So much for being nice to your brother.

Dirk takes his eyes off the road for once, probably for the first time since you got in the truck. He stares at you, and although you can't see his eyes, you can see so much pain and heartache and sadness spelled out in his chiseled features that you start to feel some of it too. You don't understand why he looks like that. It's not like he likes you or anything. He keeps you fed and clothed and alive because that's his job, but that's all taking care of you is to him, right? A job?

It happens so fast you would have missed it if it wasn't for what followed.

The headlights reflecting off of Dirk’s shades.

The wide eyes of the family in the car barreling towards you, head on, seconds away from collision.

Dirk jerking on the steering wheel, trying to get the truck back into its proper lane, but acting too late. Only seconds too late, you figure.

Screaming. Loud, high-pitched, panicked screaming so unfamiliar to you that you don't register that it was yours until much, much later.

The feeling of weightlessness as the truck begins to flip, as you're lifted from your seat like when you hit the peak of hill while riding a roller coaster.

The smell of gasoline and hair gel and something metallic and sharp that you can't quite put a name too.

The sound of metal crunching, glass smashing, hearts pounding.

The taste of blood.

The pain as glass shards slice through your skin and your head slams into something hard and then you can't really see or smell or hear or taste or feel anything at all anymore.

 

 

It's dark by the time you come to. Not just normal, night-time dark, but pitch-black. You can’t see a thing, really, and what you can see is tinged with so much black that you can only make out basic shapes. You fumble around in the dark, involuntarily letting out a groan as a sudden sharp pain flares up in your shoulder and neck and deep inside your skull.

“Dave?” A female voice, one you don't recognize. It sounds like it's coming from your right, but your vision still hasn't cleared enough for you to put a face to the speaker. “That's your name, right? Can you hear me? Are you alright?”

Too many questions. You don't know which to answer so you default to the last one, finding it hard to focus because of the intense pounding in your head.. “I...I think so?”

“When you didn't wake up at first, we were so worried. I'm still worried! The boss really doesn't appreciate damaged products,” she continues, talking to you as if you actually understand what the hell is going on. “Typically we would look for more quality goods, but you and your brother here were the only unoccupied vessels left in this area after the swarm came through!”

“My brother? Where is he?” you try to sit up, but the seat belt still has you trapped. “Dirk!” As you fumble to undo the belt, a strong but surprisingly soft hand grabs your wrist.

“Dave,” the woman says, sweet but firm. “Dave, be still, would you? I can’t let you damage your body any further.”

“I don’t care about my body!” you yell, finally managing to unclasp the seat belt. A miraculous task, you admit, considering you can barely see, and everything aches, and your hands won’t stop shaking like that time you brewed coffee with Red Bull and a couple Rockstars instead of water. “Where is my brother?!”

“If you calm down, I’ll take you to him, alright? Can you do that for me?”

You nod, but your heart is still beating against the inside of your chest so hard that it hurts and your vision is still tinged with black and the air still smells of metal and rust and blood. Calm down? How can you calm down when you are in pain and your brother is missing and a strange woman has your wrist in her iron grip and—

“Breathe, Dave.” The woman's voice is incredibly soothing, unlike any you've ever heard. You suspect that she isn't new to this whole calming down business. “Breathe. In and out. With me, Dave. In. Out. In-”

You force yourself to inhale and exhale in time with her words. Breathe In. Then let it out. Breath in. Out. In. Out. Until eventually, the breathing comes naturally, and the shaking in your hands fades to a minimum. “Okay. Okay, I’m calm now. Take me to Dirk.”

“Alrighty then,” the woman says, and you swear you can hear the smile in her voice. How is she so happy about all of this? “It might help if you take those ridiculous things off your face first. Here.”

You feel warm hands brush against the skin at your temples, and suddenly you can see, the veil of blackness lifted. Your shades dangle in front of your eyes, held aloft by beefy fingers, and you feel yourself flush. Nothing was wrong with your vision! You were just wearing dark shades at night. That'd be a serious blow to your pride if you weren't so freaked out about everything that's going on. But at least you can see now.

The woman stands outside of the truck, but leans through the large gap where the passenger side door used to be so that her face is about a foot away from yours. She looks disheveled, but in a nice way. A frizzy mass of dark hair spills across her shoulders, a mud stained red t-shirt hugs her wide-shouldered frame, and she wears no makeup except for slight smeared lipstick of similar hue to her shirt. Red seems to a theme with her, you notice, because even her eyes are red. They are a bright, deep, glowing red, like christmas lights.

“You— your eyes!” you gasp. Nothing about those eyes is natural. Eyes don’t glow.

The woman giggles, and you realize that she’s barely a woman at all —more like a girl. She can’t be more than a year or two older than you. “They’re cool, right? That’s why I picked this vessel, you know. Color coordination is important, or at least that’s what one of my friends used to always try to drill into my head,” she shakes her head, laughing quietly to herself. “I wonder what ever happened to her? Hey, if we’re lucky we might run into some of my old pals at Market! Wouldn’t that be neat if you became one of their vessels?”

Vessels? Glowing eyes? “Shit, you’re one of them, aren’t you? One of those things!” you practically spit the words. You suddenly recall what Rose said about not wanting to be on the roads when they woke up.This can’t be happening. You need to find your brother. “Get the hell away from me!”

“No, Dave, you misunderstand. We aren’t here to hurt humans; we’re here to help you!” Her smile is strained now. You almost feel bad for yelling at her, because she does seem like she's genuinely being helpful. But that doesn't negate the fact that she's one of them.

“Help us? By doing what? Possessing us? Most humans appreciate their free will, you know.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that, but we Alternians have so much to offer the Earth! Our technology is so much more advanced than yours. We can help you progress so far, way further than you’d ever make it on your own!” She claps her hands together in excitement as she speaks, but then let's them fall to her sides as a shadow darkens her gaze. “And humans...you’re all destroying this planet. It’s such a shame because this place truly is beautiful, much more beautiful than my planet, and you all take it for granted. Honestly, just give us a few decades. We’ll fix this planet up, recharge our systems, and then we’ll be on our way. Trust me. It’s beneficial to everyone!”

Decades.. did she just say that they would be here for decades? That’s too long. Any amount of time is too long. No way are you letting some weird bug control your body throughout your golden years. You have to get out of here. You have to find Dirk!

“My brother.”

“Hmm?”

“My brother! You said you would take me to him if I was calm. I’m calm. Super calm. The frickin calmest. Let’s go.”

“Yes! I’m so relieved that you’re cooperating with us now, Dave. It makes everything run so much more smoothly.”

“Us? There’s more than one of you?”

“Oh, I didn’t mention that yet? Sorry. No need to worry, though. It’s just me and Tav. He’s such a sweetie, once you get past his, er, well, you’ll see.” She gently tugs on your arm, helping you out of the smashed remains of Dirk’s truck. It’s not even on the road any more and -judging by the damage to the roof and sides- it flipped over a couple times. “I’m Aradia, by the way. I probably should have introduced myself sooner.”

“Dave. But you already knew that. Somehow.”

“Oh, your brother was yelling that earlier, so when I found you over here I assumed he meant you.”

“Is he alright?,” you ask, glancing back at the crushed piece of orange painted metal that once resembled a truck. It's a miracle you survived without any major injuries. “That was a pretty bad crash.”

“Alright is a relative term. I don’t really like to throw it around lightly,” Aradia leads you away from the truck,waving to a figure you can see down the street a ways. “Hey, Tav! The little one is awake! And he seems to be intact. How are things on your end?”

You hear an unfamiliar voice respond. “Uhhhh, I’m not s-sure. It’s breathing still, but, um, it’s still oozing a lot of th-that gross red st-stuff. You said that was b-bad, right?”

“Yes, Tavros. Bleeding is bad.”

“He’s bleeding? Let me see him!” You struggle against Aradia’s grip, but that only makes her hold on tighter; any amount of flailing about on your part doesn't seem to phase her. How is she so strong? “Let me go!”

“Fine! Please be careful, though!”

Your face almost has an unwelcome encounter with the pavement once Aradia lets go of you, your body not used to the sudden lack of resistance. You steady yourself, though, and soon you are bolting toward the figure in the distance —you think you heard Aradia call him Tavros— and towards your brother as well, sneakers slapping against the pavement with all of your power, all of your being. “Dirk!” you call, involuntarily, the words tumbling out of your mouth of their own accord. You receive no response.

You can see him now, just barely, a pale silhouette against the black pavement. His legs are bent at odd angles and there's something dark and red seeping through his white v-neck. _Shit shit shit shit shit_. When you finally reach his side, you collapse to your knees, pushing a skinny kid that you assume is Tavros out of your way in one fluid motion. Fluidity. Efficiency. Dirk!

Your brother is beyond pale— his skin is ashen, closer to the shade of a corpse than that a living, breathing human being. But you can still see his chest rise and fall, however faintly, and you take a moment to breathe yourself. He's alive! But there is still the matter of all this blood. It stains Dirk’s entire lower front torso, and there's enough of a surplus that the thick red liquid pools in the street, soaking through your jeans and dyeing the fabric of your high tops redder than they already were. How can someone still be alive after losing that much blood?

“Hey! Y-you can't do that, h-human!” Tavros squeaks. His host body is a scrawny one, with dark skin and thick hair that looks like it once formed a proud mohawk but now flops awkwardly to one side due to lack of care. His eyes glow muddy orange. “This area is for authorized p-personnel only!”

You ignore him, turning back to your brother. What are his injuries, exactly? Maybe you can do something to stop this bleeding, or at least slow it down. Gingerly gripping the edge of 'shirt, you slowly peel back the soiled fabric and — _Oh shit, oh no, there's nothing you can do to fix that nothing at all because you've never seen a gash in someone’s stomach that wide before, and you can see his muscles, and tissue,and intestines, and, and you think you're going to be sick!_

Fortunately, you managed to turn away from your brother before you projectile vomit onto the asphalt.

“Uck! Humans are s-so disgusting!” You hear Tavros squeal, the sound followed by several hurried footsteps as he tries to put as much distance between him and you as possible before vomit splatters on his shoes. Serves him right, the whiny jerk.

“Oh, leave him alone, Tav. His brother is hurt, and he's upset.” Aradia's tone is very motherly toward's him, you notice.

“Don't people get hurt all the time, though? The two of us get hurt all the time, at least, but that's mainly because of, um, yeah. You know.” There is an awkward silence, and if you weren't so caught up in emptying the contents of your stomach onto the pavement, you would want to know what that was all about. “Plus we should probably maybe get going now. Or at least, uhh, soon? You know that she doesn't like waiting.”

“I know, but we need to approach this issue carefully.” Aradia speaks in hushed tones now, as if she thinks you can't hear her anymore. “Humans are sensitive creatures.”

By this point, you're just dry heaving, any bile you had in your system already littering the road. You wipe your mouth with the back of your jacket sleeve, your once favorite piece of outerwear now too torn up and bloodstained for you to care about a little spit and vomit in it. “Shut up! Quit just standing there and chatting while my brother is dying!”

“Hey, d-don't yell at her! She’s b-been nothing but n-nice to you this whole time!”

“Shh, Tav. Let him finish.”

“But—”

“Shh!” Aradia presses her finger against Tavros’s lips,and the scrawny boy’s cheeks and ears turn bright orange.“Dave, I believe you were saying something?”

“I was saying that you should maybe try and help my brother instead of wasting time gossiping like middle school lunch ladies!” It feels like someone is stepping on your throat (something you're familiar with after all of your rooftop showdowns), and you wonder if you're about to start hyperventilating again. “Aradia, you were bragging about how advanced your kind was. Surely there is something you can do.

“Healing people is not exactly either of our specialty. Although…” Aradia turns to Tavros, and you can tell some kind of unspoken message passes between them. “There may be someone at Market that can help.”

Tavros gives her a slight nod, his hair flopping around a little at the movement of his head. “Uhh, yeah. There's b-bound to be a least one healer there. And th-that's where we're heading a-anyway.”

“Market? What, like a grocery store?”

Tavros fidgets, running his hands together as if he's having a hard time figuring out what to say. “N-not exactly. Market is just c-code for, um, uh, a p-party.”

You raise an eyebrow. Suspicious: party of one. “A party? Really?”

“Yes!” Aradia comes to Tavros’s defense, nodding along a little too enthusiastically. Suspicious: party of two. “Well, a party might be too strong of a term for it, but Market is where we trolls go to gather and conduct business.”

“Trolls? Is that what you call yourselves.” You can't help but let out a snort. It's just so ridiculous!

“Yes, it is,” she affirms distractedly, checking the watch on her wrist and frowning. “If we want to get to Market while everyone else is still gathered, we need to leave soon. Now, preferably. Are you going to cooperate?”

“Someone there can help my brother?”

“I'm sure of it. We were going to take him there even before we found you.”

You look down at your hands—your cut up, bruised, bloody hands— and know all the down to the core of your being that something is off about all this. Your instincts are screaming at you, telling you to run in the opposite direction, to run so fast and so far that even if you wanted to look back, this terrible place would be so far behind you that it wouldn't even matter. And you could do that. Despite all of your injuries, there is so much adrenaline pumping through your system now that you don't even feel the pain anymore. But you can't run. As you look at your brother sprawled out on the asphalt, pale as porcelain except much more ghastly and much more _real_ , and you know without a doubt that Dirk will die unless he gets professional help.

“Alright.” The words feel sour on your lips. The last thing you want to do is go anywhere with those creatures, but you have no other choice. “Take us to Market.”

 

 

Of all the vehicles lined up along the side of the road, Aradia just had to choose the hearse. As if this situation wasn't grim enough already. When questioned about it, Aradia goes into some long excited speech about how back on her home planet, she was researching everything about Earth that she could before the journey, and she became fascinated with humans’ post-death rituals. “It's really sweet how you honor the dead, throwing them a party and whatnot after parading them around town,” she had told you, eyes smiling, her voice tinged with more excitement than should be healthy, considering the topic. “Back on Alternia, death is so common that trolls don't even bother with saying goodbye. It's pretty boring actually. I think we should throw corpse parties, too! What do you think, Tavros? Can we throw a corpse party?”  
Needless to say, you regret asking.

Despite the unpleasant atmosphere that plagues her choice in transportation, you later admit that the hearse was a good choice. After hauling the (totally empty, you hope) coffin out of the back of the long black car, there is plenty of room to lay Dirk comfortably in the back, or as comfortable as one can be with a gaping gash in their stomach. You sit crossed-legged against the wall, Dirk's head cradled in your lap as you endure the long and bumpy ride.

Your cellphone battery is creeping dangerously low, almost into the red zone, and you regret leaving your backpack (complete with the portable power pack for your phone) in the truck. Rose hasn't messaged you back yet, and now you're starting to get really fricking worried. It's been what, like seven hours? Eight? You aren't exactly sure considering you were unconscious for most of them, but no matter how you look at it, it's way past the acceptable window for replying.

You decide to open Pesterchum one last time to update your friend on your situation. Despite her uncharacteristic absence, you haven't given up hope with her yet.

**\----- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]-----**

TG: hey rose  
TG: i dont know whats taking you so long to reply but im trying not to assume the worst here so bear with me  
TG: i have to put the new york plan on the back burner for a while  
TG: a lot of shit has gone down in the last few hours  
TG: i dont think i could explain it all if i tried so heres the short and simple version  
TG: well heres the short version because nothing about this situation can be considered simple in the least  
TG: the aliens are awake and active now but you probably knew that by now  
TG: bet you didnt know that the aliens call themselves trolls tho  
TG: ikr comedy gold  
TG: but thats besides the point  
TG: we wrecked the truck and now my bro is hurt  
TG: like really fucking hurt  
TG: and now were being taken to some place called market by a couple of trolls  
TG: they say someone there can help my bro out so im just going along with it  
TG: and yes i realize how sketchy this whole thing sounds but I don't really have much of a choice here  
TG: aradia said that market is where trolls hang out and conduct business  
TG: whatever thats supposed to mean  
TG: so things are about to get intense around here if i had to guess  
TG: not that things werent intense already  
TG: if you dont hear from me after a few hours i think we both know what happened  
TG: if thats the case then just focus on getting harley and egbert to safety okay  
TG: despite what jade says i think those dorks need all the help they can get  
TG: my phone battery is in the red now so im going to turn it off to conserve what i can  
TG:ill check in after a few hours if im still alive

**\----- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]-----**

There. Now that that’s settled you let yourself finally relax, letting your head rest against the carpeted wall of the hearse. It's dark back here, and Dirk’s breathing is so quiet that if you couldn't feel the weight of his head on your lap, you wouldn't even know he was there. It's pretty peaceful actually, and with the darkness hiding all of the blood from view, you can almost pretend that nothing is wrong. You let your eyes close, enjoying the gentle lull of the sound of rolling tires, and before you know it, you've fallen asleep.

 

 

The first thing your groggy mind registers when you wake is the numbness spreading up your arms. Maybe you slept on them wrong? But wait, that doesn't make sense. You didn't sleep on your arms at all. You slept sitting up, and you know you didn't have your arms pulled painfully behind you as you did so.

_Something's wrong. Something is very, very wrong!_ Your eyes fly open at the realization and it takes you a minute to process what you see, mainly because there is just so, so much to look at. The first thing you notice is the colors. Hundreds of mostly transparent and vaguely humanoid forms are gathered in front of you, all glowing with the various colors of the rainbow and then some, ranging from red to green to violet, and even to muddy brown-orange. Their voices are so loud you find it hard to concentrate, your ears flooded with chatter in some foreign tongue that is completely unfamiliar to you. The large room is fairly dim, the only thing that seems to be illuminating the space is the silvery rays of moonlight peeking in through the windows way up near the high ceiling. You assume your are in a warehouse or abandoned factory of some sort, as you do not know of many other types of buildings that would be built this gigantically.

You yourself sit atop a makeshift stage made out of wooden pallets and cinder blocks, a cool metal post pressing into the skin of your back —wait, what happened to your jacket and shirt?—and you realize with a start that your wrists are handcuffed behind the pole. You tug at the restraints, arching your back and contorting your arms in a desperate attempt to find some way, any way, to escape from the cuffs. Several trolls start laughing as you struggle, jeering and yelling things in that weird language that you can't help but feel are directed at you.

To either side of you are other humans, tied and tethered to metal beams that stretch all the way up to the ceiling, just as you are. Some are struggling against their bonds, but most sit slumped against the post, having long since given up on the futile struggling. Many of them are crying. You spot a girl who can't be older than ten, and your heart wells up in your chest. She's too young for this. Shit, you're too young for this!

“Dave!” a familiar voice calls over the crowd, and the once soothing sound chills you to your core. You spot a frizzy mass of black hair pop over the edge of the stage, and you can practically feel the daggers glaring from your eyes. Aradia.

“I thought we had a deal!” you growl, stiffening. Your instincts told you not to trust her, told you to run fast and far away from her, but you didn't listen, and now you're paying the price for that blunder.

“Deal?” Aradia shakes her head, causing her mass of hair to bounce around on her shoulders. “No, Dave. We said we were taking you and your brother to Market and asked if you'd cooperate. You said you would, and now we're here. We never promised you safety.”

“What about my brother? You said you'd save him!”

“A magenta blood already bought him off our hands. I have no idea what happened to him afterwards.”

“You—you sold my brother?! What do I...where di—” You want to strangle Aradia. You want to bust free of your bonds and kill every troll in the place. You want your brother.

“Listen, Dave, as much as I would love to answer all of your questions, the auction is starting. I believe this is where we part ways.” She smiles at you, and you hear an odd tone in her voice. Sadness, maybe? Guilt? No, there's no way a heartless alien could ever feel guilt, not after what she did to your brother. “Best of luck.”

“No! Wait!” You yell, but Aradia has already blended back in with the crowd. You may hate her, but at least she’s a familiar face among this crowd of aliens.

A commotion at the center of the stage draws your attention. A man has walked out onto the platform. His posture is perfect, almost regal, and his crisp white suit and hair contrast with the otherwise dingy building. In his hands is a microphone.

"Good evening, everyone!" he announces with a perfect talk-show-host voice. You wonder if he's speaking in English for the benefit of you and the other humans. "Welcome to Market! My name is Doctor Scratch and I will be the host for today's proceedings, so without further ado, I'd like to get started. An excellent host doesn't waste time after all."

The man turns so that he's facing the captive humans instead of the crowd. His eyes linger on each person for a few seconds as he analyzes them before continuing on to the next. That is, until he looks at you. Your breath catches in your throat as you meet his eyes. Bright, glowing green. He grins, all perfect teeth and malice,  and begins to walk to you. You back up as far you can, but really there is nowhere for you to go. You're trapped. The man's hand tightens around your upper arm, and he yanks you roughly to your feet. It takes all of your willpower not to yelp out in pain.

"Let's start with this handsome young man! He seems to be in good health. A little banged up but manageable. Plus, look at those glorious cheekbones!" You hear several chuckles from the crowd, and even a couple of wolf-whistles. You have never felt more violated in your life.

"Screw you," you snap as you try to yank your arm back from the creepy man. It doesn't work. In fact, all you manage to do is cause the man to throw his head back in laughter.

"Oh, the boy as spunk! That makes him worth more, in my opinion. Let's start the bidding out high, shall we? Can I get fifty boon dollars?" Several hands rise up from the crowd, as well some grunts of affirmation. The man keeps calling out high and higher numbers, until the activity starts to dwindle around two hundred boon dollars. Whatever those were. "Can I get two hundred and twenty?"

A tall blue tinted troll starts to raise his hand, but a small teal one pushes him out of her way. "Four hundred and thirteen boon dollars!" she gasps, in a high-pitched yet raspy voice.

The man on the stage makes a small choking sound before quickly regaining his composure. Blink and you would have missed it. "Excuse me, miss?"

The teal troll has pushed her way up to the front of the crowd now. "You heard me. I'll give you four hundred and thirteen boon bucks right now for that cool kid you've got your sleazy hand around." 

The man beams, paying her last comment no mind. "Why, of course. Is anyone willing to top that? Can I get four hundred and fourteen boon dollars? Anybody?" The crowd shifts and several trolls shake their heads. No one raises a hand. "Okay then. He's all yours, miss. Come on up here and claim your vessel."

The tea troll clambers up onto the stage. It's hard to make out details considering the glowing girl is still partially transparent, but you notice short hair and thin, pointed horns. She stops about a foot in front of you and leans in close to your face. You swear you hear her sniff. "What's your name, cool kid?"

"Dave," you reply breathlessly. This is really happening, isn't it? You're going to become one them. She's going to  _own you._

"Nice meeting you, Dave," she laughs, and her form shimmers. She transforms so quick that you almost miss it. Instead of a glowing girl, a teal beetle-like bug flies just in front of your face. You snap your jaws closed, but the man on the stage pries your mouth open.  _No, this is not happening, this can't be happening, you don't want to become one of them!_

 Too bad you don't always get what you want.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, there's chapter two! I wrote this one at the same time as chapter one, so I'm going to go ahead and post it. Next narrator is Jade.
> 
> Song for this chapter: Gasoline by Halsey

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story so far. I'll try to update fairly regularly, hopefully every week or two. Next chapter is when all the action starts! Please feel free to leave constructive criticism in the comments, because I really want to improve my writing skills. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Song for this chapter: The Kids Aren't Alright by Fall Out Boy


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